


Good Intentions

by DarknessAndFyre



Series: Feathers [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Embarrassed Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Overwhelmed Aziraphale, Pining, feathers - Freeform, letters so many letters, the quill 'knows' things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAndFyre/pseuds/DarknessAndFyre
Summary: I saw a post of our ineffable husbands fb group on sentient things with regards to our ineffable husbands. So, naturally, my mind went to their feathers and what they both did with them.I made the first fic 'recycling' a while back so, I just made it into a series. Hoping to write lots more about the boys and their feathers as the ideas come to me.Enjoy!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Feathers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908901
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Good Intentions

Crowley caught onto the idea of using his feathers for quills to write with, from Aziraphale. He didn’t do a lot of writing except to Aziraphale. Only that was the thing, Aziraphale was never the intended recipient of the letters written to him. Crowley wrote these letters for his own ends, just to get the way he felt written down and forgotten about. Crowley didn’t want anything to change the good thing they had going between them.

Crowley had started writing letters sometime after the 1800’s, after the Bookshop opening. Aziraphale had started selling his own pristine, white feathers sharpened as Quills then. Aziraphale had stripped the feathers of his own Ethereal powers before selling them, like the sensible supernatural being he was.

Although the letter writing was essential to Crowley’s state of mind, he kind of, sort of enjoyed it. He had to be in the right frame of mind to write the letters (i.e. just after coming home from drinking far too much alcohol with the love of his life usually did it. He could never tell his Angel that though, he was far too scared of Aziraphale’s reaction to tell him the truth.)

The feathers that Crowley used were his own, so it never even crossed his mind that he should rid his demonic power from them. What would be the harm? He was the only one using them, right? No one was ever going to be reading these letters after all. (Oh, how wrong was he!) After writing what were essentially, love confessions, Crowley never ever thought to read them through again, when he was stone cold sober. What would be the point of that? To wallow in his pining. No, thanks! He just sealed the letters in an envelope, dated them and tossed them in a box, never to be shown in the light of day again.  


What Crowley had thought he had written, being careful, well, technically, it wasn’t exactly what his demonic quill had written. His demonic quill had written the truth of his soul through the letters. If Crowley had ever read the letters written with Aziraphale in his mind, he would have been so mortally embarrassed that these words had ever been in his heart. Because, you know, Demon, not meant to feel “stuff”.

Years passed and the failed apocalypse came and went. Their respective sides left them alone after Heaven and Hell found that they could survive Holy water and Hellfire. They just didn’t care. Aziraphale and Crowley were truly on their own side with the rest of humanity. They became closer, sharing little touches, kisses and hugs. A decision was made by both to get out of London as there was no need for temptations and miracles, well, at least not done by them.

They had moved down to a lovely cottage in the South Downs cottage with miraculously enough space for everything that they had wanted to bring with them from London.

That first Christmas, Crowley went out to get them a Christmas tree while Aziraphale went to hunt in the loft for the decorations. He moved various boxes around in order to find the boxes with the decorations in. He spotted a large plain box near the roof eaves. Ever curious, Aziraphale got a closer look at the box. He shone his torch onto the lid of the box. 

In Crowley’s writing style, it simply said “Aziraphale”. Now, Aziraphale was in a quandary, were the contents meant for him or were they about him?  
“Well, a little look won’t hurt.” Aziraphale convinced himself. He opened the box. The first thing he saw was lots and lots of stubby little black quills, kind of like when an artist uses a pencil so much. He cleared the quills and picked up the first letter, it had the date of 2.1.1800 on it.

But it was clearly addressed to Aziraphale from Crowley. Why hadn’t he just given it to Aziraphale? The reason why became very clear as he read the letter. It was filled with loving language, most definitely not becoming of a suave Demon and the letter was signed at the end  
“Your darling Crowley”. 

He peered into the box, there were hundreds and hundreds of letters, all with different dates on the front of the envelopes. His hands began to tremble as he opened letter after letter from Crowley’s own hand. His eyes became moist as he read his dear Demon’s words of love. 

Aziraphale was so distracted he forgot about the decorations entirely. He jumped when Crowley’s head became visible in the loft hatch opening. 

“Angel? What are you doing?” He saw Aziraphale sat there, surrounded by his letters, tears streamed down his face.  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice hitched, “I never knew.”

Crowley scrambled up the loft ladder and sat besides Aziraphale. He enveloped his one true love in his arms. He whispered,  
“That’s why I could never sent them. I could have never put you in danger by having something like this written down. The box had been kept secure under demonic spells.”

Aziraphale gasped and tilted his head so that their lips gently met for a kiss.  
“Thank you, my love. For being the brave one, for being the courageous one and for always being there.”  
“Sure, Angel. Now, let’s get the decorations down before it becomes New Year!”

Aziraphale chuckled and swatted Crowley with some letters. Aziraphale brought the box down and they spent a few days over a quiet Christmas just reading through the letters.


End file.
